Lesson in Words
by err - who am i
Summary: Castiel should know better than taking English 101 Winchester style. Warning: some swearing but honestly, people, what are the Winchesters without it?


**A/N: I've posted this story in an Indonesian forum under the name "thunderbirdie". There, I had to disguised the, err, inappropriate words. But I think I don't have to do so here. XD**

Sam was utterly, undeniably, unquestionably bored. He itched for a hunt, which was quite a surprise since it's usually attributed to Dean-mister-trigger-happy-Winchester. Both hunters were passing a small Wisconsin town – most likely a village, according to Sam – when Dean pulled over at a Bel Aire Motel. What Sam thought an overnight stay had turned into a day – with Dean took his baby for over five hours to some place he wouldn't tell Sam and came back like he had won a lottery – and was in threat for two.

"Dean, c'mon, man," said Sam, stepping to block his brother from the old cartoon movie he's watching, "We've got to move on."

"Nah, love it here, Sammy. I can even move and settle here," Dean kept his position on the couch, "Can you step aside? You kinda block my visibility here."

"Look, I've got clues to hunts near here that can keep us busy," Sam flipped through his folder, "Missing campers in Green Bay, Lake Huron area. Local police said possible bear attack. Sounds like wendigo to you?"

"Just some bunch of kids get lost. Unless one of them has sister as pretty as that Haley babe in Black Ridge, I'm not going."

"Haunted mansion in Des Moines."

"Sounds like Eddie Murphy's movie."

"You actually watched Disney movies?"

"You actually watched Oprah?", Dean replied with a mock shocked expression.

Sam sighed, "Suspected shapeshifter in Chicago."

"Hell no! Please correct me if I'm wrong, but twice we met them, twice I ended as FBI's most wanted. They're bad luck, Sam."

"The last time it hooked you up with a hot chick."

"True," Dean grinned with a dreamy look on his face, "But I'll pass this one. If you want to hunt it, then go. Chicago's not far to the south from here. You can see Oprah while you're there."

Sam gave him a can-you-be-serious-for-a-minute-please look, which Dean wouldn't notice since his gaze had been drawn back to the screen. Sam pulled the last sheet of paper, "Since you've been such an ass, why don't we cross the country, huh? Okay, chupacabra in New Mexico."

Dean spluttered the beer he's sipping and, for the first time, turned around to look at his brother, "Chupa… Me? The almighty Dean Winchester hunts a chupacabra? Doesn't that ghost, Casper, live in Santa Fe? That little fellow can hunt chupacabra if he wants to. Besides, out of all reported sightings of chupacabra, none can lead to an honest-to-God conviction that this creature is actually exist. You watch too much Scooby-Doo."

Sam threw his hands up exasperatedly, "Dean!"

"Sam."

Sam took a deep breath and counted to ten before speaking, "What's in this honest-to-God-supernaturally-dull-place that you find so attractive? I mean you're the one who usually drag my butt around the country, hunt whatever things out there, and sulk when I'm reluctant to."

"Whoa, hold on there, Sammy-boy," Dean leapt from the sofa, "I do not sulk. Besides I'm on a hunting mission myself."

"Yeah, right," Sam snorted.

Clasping his hands together, Dean said in a tone that could have people mistaken that place as White House or Buckingham Palace, "Mazo Beach."

Sam raised his eyebrows. He never heard of it or any unusual things happened around except one old lady he met at the diner complaining about her mailbox suddenly pop open every after midnight. "Didn't ring a bell."

Dean wrapped an arm around his younger brother's shoulders, "Mazo Beach is known to be haunted by the most significant mystical creatures for men, naked hot chicks."

Sam's jaw dropped open.

"The only LEGAL nude beach in Wisconsin," the older hunter grinned like a Cheshire cat, "Oh, yeah. We should check it out, Sammy. We have a noble responsibility to see if a trickster is behind all of this. Or we simply protect those girls from being manipulated by some freakin' pervert jerk."

"Sounds very much like you…"

Dean put a hand over his chest, "Why, Sam, I'm hurt. You officially question my true-to-the-heart intention. Besides, don't tell me a pair of boobs scared you?"

Sam put a disgusted face. Sometimes he just wanted to throw his pain-in-the-ass-brother to hell himself. "This is said by someone who's afraid of flying?"

"Well, apparently people are killed in plane crashes," Dean said triumphantly, "So if I'm not eager to jump on a plane, it's statistically rational. But you, Sammy boy, you are afraid of clowns," he added while pointing an accusing finger at Sam.

"Just because I'm not eager to meet them, doesn't mean I'm afraid of them."

Dean laughed, "Of course, Sammy. I know how courageous you are."

Sam plopped down on the couch next to Dean, a thoughtful expression adorned his face, "Speaking of girls… Dude, you really sounded like them when that cat jumped on you." Sam smartly countered, "You should see your own face. And that scream…"

"I was sick with ghost sickness!"

"Sure, Dean. I was there to see you running like a mouse with rabies when that spirit appeared."

"You're not that happy when you lost that freakin' bunny foot, Samantha."

"So were you, Dean-ie!"

"Bitch."

"Jerk."

Both Winchesters nearly jumped out of their skins when a voice came from behind them, "Why are you talking to each other like that?"

"Jesus, Cas," Dean stood and ran a hand through his hair, "You do know that I hate it when you do that, don't you? Don't you learn how to knock in heaven?"

The said angel just stared to the older hunter as if saying "Are you idiot?" which, of course, impossible because his expression was as flat as a cardboard. Dean believed Castiel could even make the gossip about Tom Cruise adopting a Martian baby as dull as a debate about what underwear color to wear on Monday.

"It's not necessary to knock the gate. St. Peter always welcomes those who deserve to be there. They don't have to wait. Angels are waiting for them."

Dean stared at the angel, more precisely possessed tax-accountant, blankly. After spending some quality time in hell, he had avoided all topic regarding afterlife because it's not something you could talk about. You had to live, or die, or …whatever it.

"I'm sure you're not just dropping by to teach Sunday school."

With his ever flat tone and expression, Castiel spoke hesitantly, "I heard you called Sam, umm, …" And for once, Castiel the angel lost words and looked down at the suddenly interesting motel floor.

"What? Bitch?" Dean said casually.

Castiel flinched as if someone had hit him on the gut.

Dean and Saw swore they just had saw a faint shade of pink crept on Castiel's cheeks.

"Yes," Cas said, still looking down, "And Sam called you… Umm…"

"Jerk?" Dean kindly helped him to speak the word.

Castiel cringed. Sam started to feel bad for him. Surely for an angel those words, which decorated every Winchester's bantering, were discomforting. Heck, Sam thought, what an understatement. Sam dared to bet Dean's Impala that if his insensitive brother spoke one more of those, err, heavenly inappropriate words, Cas would run crying and bring Uriel back to deal with them. Though Sam had an odd feeling that Uriel might not be affected by those words.

"Umm, those words mean bad. We, angels, are forbade to say them," Castiel warily told them, "If you're brothers, then why did you call each other that?"

Snap. Try to explain that to an angel.

"Well," Sam said carefully, "It's just a joke, okay? We say them, but never really mean them."

"How so?" Cas asked with a confused expression.

This time, even Sam (the walking encyclopedia of freak, Dean said) wasn't convinced with his answer, "We're brother, like you said. So, we… love each other and we both know that…"

Dean almost puked at the word 'love' and opened his mouth to add his own remark before Sam ruined his anti chick-flick reputation. But he stopped short when Sam's elbow caught him on the chest. So, he just grinned at the angel and patted Sam cheek.

"You know, Cas, it's our version of bro, sweetie, or whatsoever those creepy words are…" Dean continued.

Sam elbowed Dean again, harder.

"We have our own way to express affection. Just being playful, you know," Dean said as a matter-of-fact quickly before Sam had a chance to inflict more injuries..

Castiel frowned, "And you're not offended by that?"

"No!" both hunters answered in unison.

"Okaaay…" Castiel finally relented. But he failed to see the brothers crossed their fingers behind their back.

Talking about deadly sins, Sam thought, hopefully lying to an angel is forgivable. Otherwise we can bang the heaven's gate for a millennium and still St. Peter won't open it for us.

**********

A week after that, the Winchesters were on the road again. They pulled over at a diner in Trinidad, Colorado. Sam moved to grab his bag from the back seat and jumped – hitting his head on the doorframe – when Castiel appeared on the back seat.

"Bloody he… Sh… Darn!" Sam stumbled for a correct curse, if such thing did actually exist.

Dean, who had slammed the driver's door shut just a moment before, peeked back inside to see the source of hysteria. Of course, there sat an angel with all his angelic quality.

"Cas, you need to do that more often," Dean said, laughing at Sam's labored breathing, "Help me to get rid of this pesky little brother."

Sam shot his brother a murderous glare.

Castiel eyed the diner's sign as he stepped out of the car, "What are you doing here?"

"Refueling," Dean said flatly.

"More likely dumping waste into Dean's belly," Sam muttered darkly, "With all those junks he chews…"

Dean slapped the back of Sam's head.

Sam swatted Dean's hand away, " … I'm surprised the reaper is not after him."

"So, what are we doing here?" Castiel insisted, feeling that the hunters hadn't yet to answer his curiosity, as Dean led them to a table by the window.

"Don't you ever feel hungry?" Dean asked as he waved to one of the waitresses.

Castiel shook his head, his blue-eyed as sharp as ever as he stared at the hunter with a look which on normal person would have signed "Duh!", "I'm an angel."

Dean wore a shocked expression with mouth wide open. For him, not fulfilling your appetite could be categorized as crime against humanity.

"You're gonna catch a fly, Dean," Sam said lightly before turning to the angel sitting beside him, "But doesn't your vessel feel it?. You know, the warm, uneasy feeling on your stomach."

Castiel shook his head again.

Further conversation was cut short when the waitress, a young Asian girl, approached them.

"So, what can I get you, guys?" she smiled at them, nudging his purple-framed glasses back to the bridge of her nose.

Dean gave her his award-winning smile, "Well…" he read the name tag briefly, "… Dee, cute name, by the way, what about bacon, egg, fries, and cheeseburger for me. Extra sauce, please. Oh, and coke."

"A man with a great appetite," Dee said, while writing the order on her note, "And you…" she addressed Sam and Castiel.

"Umm, turkey sandwich and salad for me. And make the coke two," Sam said.

"Alright, then. What about you?"

Castiel looked at Sam, then to Dean, "What…I'm… I…"

"He's having what I'm having," Dean said quickly.

Sam's long leg kicked Dean's under the table. "Just get him chicken sandwich, egg, and orange juice."

At Dean's disgusted expression, Sam smiled at Dee, "He has sensitive stomach."

Dee raised an eyebrow, but said nothing, "Anything else?"

"You don't happen to have pie, do you, sweetie?" Dean returned to his ever luring-self, winked at her.

The waitress giggled a little, "Apple pie sounds good to you? With cream and cherry on top."

"So much," Dean said, grabbing her hand and squeezed it gently, "You're the best."

Dee took her hand back, but she couldn't hide a sudden blush that formed on her cheeks, "Back in a sec, guys."

"Oh, baby, you can back for a sex anytime you want," Dean murmured, gazing at her bump until she disappeared behind the counter. When he finally looked away, his green eyes shimmered like a five-year-old on Christmas' Eve. "Waitresses. Trust them to pamper you…"

"Dean, do you realize that the first thing you do each time we come to a diner is flirting?" Sam scolded.

"I'm a happy sexually active alpha male," Dean stated proudly.

"Are you even sure we're brothers?"

"Funny you asked. Because apparently we're not. Why did you order that poor angel chicken sandwich and orange juice? He's not a damn school boy."

"Well, Einstein, apparently not everyone possess your gross eating habit."

"Bitch."

"Jerk."

Castiel looked at them simultaneously, completely forgotten. Surely these two brothers have a bizarre way to show affection, he thought.

Minutes later, Dee returned with their meals. Despite his being a cuisine-virgin, Castiel had to admit that the scent of the stuff in front of him triggered unique reaction from his stomach.

"Bon appétit," Dee said as she placed the last plate on the now-full table. She smile at them – with extra wink at Dean – before returning to her position.

Dean literally attacked his food, while Sam took a more civilized approach – a style imitated by Castiel who found Dean's eagerness a bit unnerving. But after the first bite, Dean and Sam had to hold Castiel before he dumped all the content of his plate to into his mouth. The angel had choked a huge chunk of sandwich in his haste to taste the delicious food. This almost caused a panic attack from both hunters.

Dean's almost asking for the bill when Dee appeared with three plates in her hand. "Aww, don't say you guys are leaving yet. Our cook has just made this special fruit pancake." Without further comment, she placed each plate in front of them and, much to Dean's glee, generously poured maple syrup over their pancakes.

"Oh, but we can't…" Sam started.

"That's very kind of you, sweetheart," Dean quickly cut him off. "Tell me, do you always treat your customers with such tender care like this?"

"I usually do," she flashed Dean an adoring smile, "But of course a striking guy like you deserves special service."

If it's possible, Dean's face – now adorned with cheeky smile – grew brighter. "Dee, you officially has gained an access to my heart."

"Oh, shut up, you," she laughed softly, pouring more maple syrup over Dean's pancake.

"Thanks, honey."

"More syrup for you, too, sweetie?" she asked Castiel, "A bit shy, aren't you?"

Castiel looked at Dean's excited face, then to Sam, who desperately tried to hide his snicker. This person was definitely nice, though the way she talked to Dean brought him a little discomfort. And Dean called her names that made her smile. The angel wasn't sure about this. But if it worked for Dean and Sam, then he could give it try.

"Thanks, bitch."

Dean froze, his spoon fell to the plate. Sam gaped in pure horror. Dee squinted her eyes dangerously, torn between having to react or simply question if she heard right. Castiel looked as innocent as ever.

"Excuse me?" she asked, her tone now low and threatening, "What did you just call me?"

"I know. The first time I heard it, it was shocking," Castiel answered, "As far as I knew, bitch was originally used to call female of canine species and never meant good along history. But apparently contemporary human civilization has higher degree of tolerance and even uses it as a sign of affection be... Umph…"

Sam clamped his hand on the angel's mouth and smiled apologetically to Dee, "I'm so sorry. He didn't mean it. He…"

"And I thought you were different from those jerks I met," Dee's face was now boiling red with anger and shame, "I thought you were a bunch of nice guys…"

"But I am," Dean pointed a finger at himself.

"Get out of here, you son of a bitch!" Dee cried while lifting Sam's coke glass and dousing the content to the unsuspecting angel.

Castiel, who managed to remove Sam's hand and now drenched, confusedly interjected in his normal tone, "But I'm the son of God."

Sam quickly clamped him shut again, "I think we're leaving now." He reached nervously into his wallet and pulled out five ten dollar bills. The meal didn't cost nearly as that, but he's willing to pay anything just to get out of there. Then he pulled Castiel up and dragged him to the doors.

"You better be," Dee said dangerously.

Dean, who's about to follow his brother outside, turned around and spoke rather guiltily, "You know what… He has this ADD, dyslexia, whatever… He didn't know what he's talking about. I think he's also a bit idiot. Poor thing…"

"Get out!"

"Can I have your number? I can call you later," Dean tried desperately.

"No!"

"Okay," Dean said quickly, and slammed the door shut behind him.

Castiel and Sam stood beside the Impala awkwardly. Apparently, Sam had reprimanded him but he still didn't know what he had done wrong.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" Dean barked at the angel.

"I just want to thank her for her kindness."

"By calling her a bitch?!"

"But you said it's a sign of affection. So…"

Sam snorted, Winchester 0 – Angel 1.

Dean raised his hand effectively silencing Castiel and fixed a glare at Sam, "Nobody…says…a word!"

They all got in the car and drove silently for ten minutes before Castiel asked, "I wonder why she called me son of a bitch. Didn't she know I'm the son of God?"

"Shut up!" Dean growled as Sam laughed hysterically.


End file.
